


Captured

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/M, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Locked In, Pre-Series, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1856934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon did not expect to go into the Federation bank and find other people attempting to rob it. He certainly didn't expect to get locked in a vault with somebody else with no idea if they will ever get out ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captured

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "caught in a robbery"

Avon stood very still, cursing his bad luck.

It was supposed to be a simple check, that was all. A quiet investigation to make sure that all his information was correct. A quick story about wanting to check his account, a quick, quiet examination on the sly. He should have been in and out in a few minutes.

Except that somebody _else_ had decided to rob the Federation Banking System. And were doing it a lot more badly than he would have done.

Not that he planned to comment on this. The blaster rifles that the would-be thieves were holding were very silencing, even for him.

They were trying to work out what to do with their terrified collateral damage. Several people were crying in an annoying and pointless way. Avon stayed completely quiet, hoping that if they thieves lost their tempers, they would only shoot the fools that were making sounds.

A decision had been made. They were waving with their guns, making people line up. Avon fell quietly into line, watching warily. Execution? They’d be fools to do it, the Federation would fall on them with great force, they wouldn’t make enough money from this one raid to get away that well. But so many people _were_ fools, there was a real possibility …

He felt cold. No, he didn’t want to die, not here, not now. He had such plans, he was going to be all right, he had to be all right …

No, they weren’t being shot here, not now. They were being led down to the lower level, the level of the vaults. Avon felt his stomach twist slightly. So they were to be locked in. Yes, there was sense in that, keep them all out of the way in empty vaults … but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to go in one of those black little rooms, didn’t want to be trapped, didn’t want to be locked up …

Someone grabbed him from behind, threw him forward. He got a brief impression of empty shelves then felt someone bump into him and then the door was slammed and he was alone with an unknown companion in the dark.

He took a deep breath, trying to orient himself. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was just dark. The dangers were outside, not inside.

“H-hello.”

His unknown companion was a woman. There was a slight tremor in her voice but she didn’t sound like she was crying or going to start screaming.

“Hello,” he said and fought a sudden urge to laugh at the inanity of it. His companion seemed to feel, the same, she gave a sudden giggle which she quickly stifled.

“Sorry. It just sounded ridiculous – here we are, locked in the dark and I’m saying hello like a tea party!”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say in reply to that. He made a non-committal noise, trying to think. Ought he check the vault for possible weapons? No, the thieves would have thought of that and checked the place. In this dark, he might hurt himself. Better to stay quiet.

“What’s your name?” his companion asked.

“Avon.”

“I’m Anna. I’m … oh, it’s so _stupid_ , I was only here to confirm my account had opened properly! I should have stayed at home!”

She sounded cross rather than upset. Avon understood the feeling. He lowered himself carefully into a sitting position and told himself that he didn’t need a wall at his back because there was _nothing_ in the dark.

Except Anna anyway.

“Do … do you think air is getting in here?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s no light. Perhaps the air circulation is … minimal.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small. He heard a rustling noise and knew that she had sat down too. Perhaps she was close to him. He couldn’t tell.

“I might be wrong,” he said. “I don’t believe these vaults are hermetically sealed, there is no reason for them to be. And the thieves are unlikely to take long.”

“Perhaps,” Anna said softly. “I … sorry, would you mind … can I hold your hand? I’m sorry, it’s so dark, I can’t … I just need to know you’re really here. Is that stupid?”

“It’s natural,” he said. “It’s why so many people are tortured with sensory deprivation. You, you may hold my hand if you like.”

Faint sounds, probably of her moving. After a moment, a hand hit his shoulder, slid down his arm to clasp his fingers. After a moment, Avon gripped back, furious when he realised how relieved he was to be touching somebody. He didn’t normally like to be touched. Stupid to allow the darkness and uncertainty to get to him, to change who he was even on this small level and yet … yet he did not relax his grip.

“Thank you,” Anna said. “I’m sorry, I don’t want … I suppose we just wait here?”

“Yes. These vaults do not open from the inside. We will have to wait until either they choose to release or the troops arrive.”

He didn’t say anything else. How long would it take to empty the money available here? Not too long – but it also wouldn’t be too long before the troopers arrived, before they were surrounding the building. Did the thieves have a plan for that? Did they have a backup plan? Would the troopers simply decide to burn the building to the ground? The vaults might protect them but nobody would want to dig down to save a few nobodies. They would die. They would be left to die agonisingly, of oxygen starvation or of thirst.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

His breath was getting shallow. He forced himself to take one deep breath, then another. He was not afraid. He was not going to panic. He was not going to be a coward or a fool.

“Avon?” Anna’s voice was soft. “Could … could we talk? I … it’s so dark in here, I’m getting scared and I don’t … I don’t want that. Just about anything, you can tell me about your job or … or something.”

“My job isn’t very interesting,” he said, surprise at how glad he was to have something else to think about. “I’m a technician – a good one – and a computer expert.”

“Are you very good at what you do?”

She had moved a little closer to him, her hand still entwined with his. Her arm leaned against his and she was surprisingly warm. It was nice, almost comfortable.

“I am the best,” he said proudly. “There isn’t anybody better than me.”

She gave a soft laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his neck.

“I wish I could say that about myself,” she said. “I haven’t done anything very special. I’ve only just moved to this dome and I’ve brought almost nothing with me. I’m not doing anything more than the lowest level of programme analysis. I feel … I don’t know. I’ve wasted my life and I might die here and … I won’t have been anybody before that.”

He didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward and stupid, knowing that he should produce something comforting and kind and knowing that anything that came out of his mouth would sound inane and trite. He squeezed her fingers a little and she squeezed his hand back.

“Sorry. That’s not helpful, is it? I suppose it’s normal, to start rethinking your life in these circumstances. See? Even in that I’m predictable!”

“Most people are predictable. You shouldn’t let it bother you.”

“I don’t _want_ to be like most people,” she said, her voice suddenly fierce. “I don’t want to be some sort of … some sort of robot! I want to _live!_ If I get out of this, I’m going to find my way, I’m going to do something, I’m going … I don’t know. If I have to break out of this dome and stalk into the sunset, I’ll do it!”

“And then be arrested, put on trial and possibly exiled? Not a very intelligent way to be different.”

He half-expected her to be offended, to move away or to snap at him. Instead, she gave a little laugh and then soft sigh, gentle warm breath on his skin. He felt a small tingle in his stomach.

“Yes,” she said. “Well. I suppose I have time to think about it, don’t I?”

“I suppose so.”

He wondered what would happen if he released her hand and put an arm around her shoulders. No, ridiculous. What was he thinking?

The room was getting warmer. Was that just his imagination? Or was the air getting stale? No point thinking about it, none at all.

“Let’s keep talking,” she said. “Do you have anything out there? Anybody you love?”

“No,” he said. He didn’t want to think about that in any more detail. Men and women were generally a mystery to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ – he wanted, sometimes so very much – but it was something that he was hopeless at. There had been a few drunken, pathetic fumbles but nothing better than that.

“I don’t have anybody either,” Anna said. “Well, I have my brother. But I was hoping … I don’t know. Not for children, I’ve never really wanted children but a partner, someone who understands me, who I understand … ”

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “I … should like that too.”

There was a small pause. She shifted against him and he had a feeling that she was turning her face to look at him, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Avon, I … could we pretend?”

“Pretend?”

He was too hot. Was it the room? Probably, that was it, he was just too hot because of the temperature, nothing else, no …

“Yes,” she said. “Just … that perhaps we met somewhere else, that we … that we made it work, that we … love each other.”

“I … I am not very good at … I think you might be disappointed.”

She burst out laughing. She had a nice laugh, warm and surprisingly affectionate.

“Avon, I think you won’t disappoint me, no matter what.”

“You don’t know me,” he said, feeling ridiculously clumsy. “I’m very … I’m not … ”

She touched his cheek. Her fingers were warm, soft. He shivered, despite the heat of the room.

“I haven’t met anybody like you,” he said, meaning it.

“Well, that’s why you love me, isn’t it?”

Love her? He didn’t love anybody, hadn’t loved anybody for years. But it was a pretence, wasn’t it? It might be rather nice, just to pretend, just to think that someone might love _him_.

“I suppose so,” he said and then, because it sounded so stupid and clumsy, he twisted his face around and kissed her fingertips. She gasped slightly and it was her turn to shiver. Avon felt blood surge through him. He turned his head to hers, feeling her hair brush against him again, soft and silky and his body reacted to that too, oh, she was lovely, he was sure she was lovely, he wanted, he …

And then her mouth was on his, a powerful, greedy kiss and he could do nothing but return it with equal passion. Her arms went around his shoulders, he put his arms around her waist, feeling the softness of her as she pressed against him. She was wearing something simple and cottony, not a jumpsuit like his but a top and trousers. He couldn’t stop himself, he found himself thrusting his hands under her top, gasping at the feel of her skin. She moaned and rocked closer to him, moulding her body to his. She had to be feeling how aroused he was but she didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she seemed to like it. She rocked against him again and ran her fingers through his hair and Avon struggled not to whimper at the touch.

“Please,” she whispered and then pulled him backwards so they landed on the floor in a tumble of arms and legs. He found himself laughing at the surprise of it and she laughed too before nuzzling his neck, little kisses down his throat that made him squirm. He did the same to her, not caring that he couldn’t see, not caring that outside the door there might be people with guns come to finish him off. He didn’t care about anything except her and her skin and her touch. He wanted her, he wanted her so much and she was running her hands down his chest, letting them linger on his hips, as though she wanted him too …

“Please,” she whispered again so he dropped his hand, fumbled with her trousers. God, she was so _warm_ and he was lost, lost in the dark warmth of it all, nothing mattered but her and this and the way she was moaning his name and clinging to him and hot and tight and yes, yes, yes …

He came too quickly but she didn’t seem to mind, just encouraged him to keep kissing her, touching her soft skin until she squirmed and cried out his name again, a loud, ragged cry that made him tremble. Then they were both just lying against each other, his head on her breast, listening to her rapid heartbeat, not quite able to believe it had happened and yet somehow aware that nothing had ever felt more real.

“Avon?” 

He made a soft sound to show he was listening to her. He felt sleepy and contented – which a part of him knew was ridiculous but it was easy to ignore that part of himself right now.

“I … will you promise me something?”

“If you like.”

She gave a soft laugh, ran a hand gently through his hair.

“You don’t know what it is yet!”

She was right, he didn’t. Normally, he would never have said anything so stupid. But right them, he felt quite comfortable making her any promise that she wanted.

“If we get out of here … if they don’t kill us … can we … let’s give it a try? Please?”

“Why not?” he said drowsily. Why not indeed? If they survived, she wouldn’t look twice at him, he was sure of that. For now, he could enjoy it as a fantasy, a glitter of hope in the dark.

She kissed his forehead and shifted, probably to make herself more comfortable. Avon moved with her, keeping his eyes closed. He supposed he ought to think about dressing fully again, think about what to do, think about something but he was tired and content and he wanted to feel that for just a little bit longer … just a little bit …

He must have dozed, although he didn’t really remember dropping off. He was suddenly aware of Anna pushing at him gently, trying to sit up.

“I can hear something! Avon, I can hear somebody!”

He sat up, his head spinning with confusion. He felt Anna move away and for a moment, he felt dizzy, alone. It was so dark, there wasn’t anything except himself, just himself and the floor and the lost imprint of Anna against his body.

Then the door was swinging open and he barely had time to make himself even half-presentable before the light hit his eyes and he was gasping in pain, covering his eyes with his hands. Voices were shouting, he could hear people talking and crying and barked commands and he knew that their little siege was over and the Federation troops had arrived.

It was some time before he could take his hands away from his eyes, Somebody brought him a drink which he sipped as they threw questions at him which he could only offer weak answers to. Eventually, he could see without wincing and the man who had been questioning him told him dismissively that he could leave.

Avon left. He stood outside the bank, feeling incredibly tired, not certain what to do. He ought to just go home, have a bath, try and forget this day had ever happened but somehow, his feet felt frozen. He’d made a promise. Oh, it had been a sleepy, meaningless one but he didn’t break promises. You could rely on very little in the world – your word had to mean _something_.

“Avon?” 

He twisted around at the voice, his heart seeming to stutter stupidly in his chest. A blonde woman was staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. She twisted her fingers.

“Are … are you Avon?”

“Yes. You … are Anna?”

She was lovely. Not flawless enough to be called beautiful but that didn’t matter to Avon. She smiled at him, a wide, hopeful smile.

“You … I wanted to thank you. You helped me … I think I’d have gone mad in there if not for you. I … well. Thank you.”

He swallowed uncomfortably, not sure what to say. He wanted to tell her that she had helped him, kept him sane in that darkness. But how could he say that without sounding a fool? 

“Did you want me to keep my promise?”

The words slipped from him without him meaning them to. She stared at him and he felt his face begin to burn. He tried to think of something to say that would make it sound like he hadn’t meant it at all, something cutting and cold but he found he didn’t want to. Anna was still staring at him.

“You … you don’t have to.” Her voice was a whisper. “I know it’s … not the same. Now we’re here, not … afterwards.”

“But would you like me to? I never go back on my word, Anna.”

She blinked. Then she smiled, a wide beaming smile.

“You … you would really … be willing?”

He was blushing, he was sure of it. How frustrating. But it wasn’t so bad because she was blushing too, looking at the ground. Someone came out of the bank behind him, nearly knocked him over. Anna reached out and caught his arm. Her eyes were so _hopeful_ and for a moment, he felt a stab of fear. Would he disappoint her? Did he have the right to do that to her?

“How about we start with a meal?” Anna said. She grinned, an impish grin. “Celebrate being alive?”

“Yes. Yes, I … would like that.”

She slipped her arm into his. She was warm, wonderfully warm. He found himself smiling at her and hoped that it was a good smile.

“I don’t … really know anywhere to eat,” he admitted awkwardly.

“That’s all right,” she said easily. “We’ll muddle it through together.”

He found that he liked the idea of that.


End file.
